masked
by prettypinklips
Summary: Sometimes, she even entertained a thought or two about him slipping off his mask and sweeping her up into his arms. -— iroh ii/asami, iroh as the "red spirit" au.


**masked**

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—

There had been rumors.

Rumors of a masked vigilante, weeding out the unsavory underside of the Fire Nation. Known criminals, never captured by the police, would show up every morning, tied up outside of the police station, babbling incoherently about "the Red Spirit". The terrifying, red masked crime fighter. Asami remembers her mother telling her stories of the "Blue Spirit", the hero in the night, once suspected of criminal acts. It had been her favorite tale growing up in the Fire Nation, where so many stories were heartbreaking and horrid, the Blue Spirit's story was a homage to the unrecognized hero.

She was a romantic. She enjoyed such things.

The Red Spirit, whether he existed or not, made her feel safe in the night. She worked at a bar on the shameless, seedy side of the Fire Nation, and she shift ended at night. She knows how to take care of herself, certainly, she'd been in self-defense training courses since her mother's murder, but knowing that a masked man was watching from the rooftops, ready to take down any assailant laying hands on her, gave her a little bit of comfort. If she was ever frightened walking home alone, she would think of the Red Spirit, imagine him swooping in a saving the day.

(Sometimes, she even entertained a thought or two about him slipping off his mask and sweeping her up into his arms.)

Tonight was one of those nights. Asami wrapped her arms tight around her middle, eyes venturing from one end of the dark street to the other. If she was a bender, she would light the lanterns on either side of the street. But because she wasn't, she stayed bathed in darkness. She walked a few more paces, but she could feel…something. Something was off. Earlier that evening, as she had served her customers, one particular boisterous man hadn't left her alone, pawing at her hair and clothes. "C'mon, sweetheart," he'd purred. In the end, she'd had him thrown out. As he'd left, he'd hollered, "I'll be waiting for you!" over his shoulder.

She shakes her head, smiling a little. She was being silly. The man had been harmless, drunk, but harmless. She was fine. Asami continues walking, and even though she's reassured herself, she walks a little faster. She thinks of the Red Spirit as she walks, wondering what he looks like beneath the mask.

She's imagining him when she hears it; quick footsteps behind her. She's just passed an alley, and she doesn't have time to whip around before hands close over her mouth, cutting off her scream. She lashes out, kicking, but the whoever is holding her is strong, much too strong. She's dragged backwards into the alley, shoved against the wall. The man from the bar grins at her, knife in his hands glinting. She sucks in a ragged breath, pressing herself back against the wall. "C'mon now." he says, leaning in towards her.

She spits in his face, kicking his knee. He collapses, and she makes a break for it. He rights himself quickly, grabbing around the waist, pulling her back. She's slammed harder up against the wall, knife at her throat. She shakes, "P—please." she begs, "Don't."

"Should've thought about that earlier." he leers, knife drawing blood. She closes her eyes, preparing for her throat to be slashed, a voice sounds from behind the man.

"I wouldn't do that."

Instantly, the hand is gone from her throat. She snaps her eyes open, and the man who'd held her against the wall is on the ground, knocked out. She clutches a hand to her throat, staring at the tall man across from her. Her knees give out, and the Red Spirit catches her before she falls, lifting her up. His eyes meet hers, so golden and bright, filled with concern. "You're real." she breathes, shocked.

His lips twitch beneath the mask, and he reaches out, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder. His thumb touches the beads of blood rising to the surface of the cut on her throat. Her eyelashes flutter when he absently sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking the blood off. She sucks in a ragged breath, legs shaking. "Thank you." she whispers as he steps back.

He gives her a wry grin, and holds his hand out to her. She takes it, and he walks her all the way home.

The next day, she serves a man at the bar. As she hands him his drink over the counter, he looks up, his golden eyes meeting hers. She gasps, and he winks, pressing a finger to his lips. General Iroh, prince of the Fire Nation, dips into a low bow, handing her a tip before taking his leave. Wrapped in the money he'd given her, is a note.

_"You're welcome."_

—

_fin._


End file.
